Apollo's Bane
by Drucilla
Summary: Years later, a rogue Force user returns to Tatooine to save the last person she would have expected. Complete! Or is it... Please read and review.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: I own no one but Cassandra. Please don't sue. Part 1 of probably several, please read and review. The prequel to this story is Quoth Cassandra.

Cassandra didn't know why she was back here. It had never given her anything but trouble when she had been there, and even that was only a brief visit. Yet here she was, sitting in Wuher's dark and dingy cantina, listening to the Modal Nodes and trying not to think about what was in the glass in front of her. Her contact was around here somewhere, the drink would identify her as the person he, she, or it was looking for. All she had to do was wait. Something that even she in thirty some odd years of life hadn't quite fully mastered.

"You're late," she said without looking up. It always unnerved people when she did that. 

"I had to dodge some other hunters. Like Bossk." 

She'd heard the name. It failed to impress her. "You said you had information for me that I would be particularly interested in."

"I know where Boba Fett is."

The name, despite the fact that the person to whom it belonged was supposedly five years dead, made her shiver in the heat of the room. She leaned back slowly, not wanting the man to see that he had her full and complete attention. "And?"

"And what?" the man replied, obviously nettled at not getting the expected reaction. He really was new at this game. 

"Boba Fett's dead. Wherever he is, the scavengers have probably already picked his corpse cleaner than a …"

"He's alive. He won't stay that way for much longer, but he is alive. I saw him moving." The man shuddered, and that alone convinced Cassandra that he'd seen the bounty hunter. Only Boba Fett could inspire that much fear, even as half-dead as he would have to be after having crawled out of the Sarlaac. "He'd've killed me if he noticed me."

"Most likely." Cassandra took a drink, sat back. "So why bring this information to me?"

"Of all the smugglers, bounty hunters, fringe runners… out of all of them, you're the only one who's never come into contact with Boba Fett. You've never been within a system of him. I figure, you two got some sort of connection."

Cassandra suppressed a shiver. If this low-life no-brains scumbag had figured that one out, how many other people had? Or was it the sort of bizarre conclusion only someone with this much time on their hands, and desperation to get money any way they could, would reach? Perhaps. Even so, it wasn't really something she could let slide. "Where is he?"

"Nuh-uh. Cred first, then information."

"How much?" This was the part she was easy with. While he was busy negotiating the price, she would rummage through his mind and pick the information out of his brain. And more, she would wipe all memory of this encounter, and of the pattern in her behavior he had discovered. 

"Ten thousand."

She snorted. "For ten thousand I could buy droids and search for him myself."

"That'd take too long. By the time you found him he'd already be dead."

"Seven thousand."

"Nine and five."

They haggled back and forth, as she was careful to take just enough time that he wouldn't notice what was going on, wouldn't become suspicious. She rarely used her force talents to influence people anymore, but now she really was desperate, and didn't want the man to know. Finally she had the information she wanted. It was both better than she had expected and worse than she'd hoped. She sat there for several minutes, thinking about what to do.

  
  
  
  
The man at the table blinked and looked up as Wuher shouted angrily at two Rodians who looked like they were about to start a fight right there in the bar. He stared at the drink in front of him, wondering how long he'd been dozing. For that matter, what the hell was he doing in a dive like this, anyway? Draining his glass, he shoved his way out of the cantina, grumbling. 


	2. Tatooine

Author's Note: Not mine. George Lucas'. Yes I've taken liberties. Cassandra's mine. Please read and review and let me know what you think. And while you're at it, read and review Quoth Cassandra as well. Boba points to whoever gets the song reference in both titles. 

Dawn. Just barely dawn, but Cassandra didn't want to deal with any more of the heat of Tatooine than she absolutely had to. Even after so many years, her powers did not cope with biologicals very well. Then again, neither did she. She liked it best when she was alone on her estate with her R2 and R4 units or in her ship making a run between worlds. Interacting with anything biological invariably left her with either a sense of regret or a sense of disgust, neither of which she enjoyed. And she still didn't know why she was drifting through the desert in search of a dying bounty hunter she'd barely thought about in over ten years. 

Compassion? That didn't cut it. It wasn't that she didn't have any, it was more that she didn't have any for the specific bounty hunter she'd spent nearly her entire lifetime avoiding, with only one unsuccessful seventy-two hour period. For that matter, she couldn't think of anyone who would have any sort of compassion or pity for the man, except maybe a Jedi. And they were practically dead. Oh, sure, there was the Skywalker kid, but he wasn't a Jedi any more than she was. A few half-learned teachings and a lightsaber didn't make him a Jedi. Not like the ones she'd known.

Opportunity? Maybe. That was more likely than compassion, but what opportunity was there in doing anything about it? It would have been safer for her to just leave him to die in the desert, like everyone else probably was. She didn't delude herself with the thought that she was the only one who knew where he was… just the only one who was doing anything about it. And she wasn't about to think that he'd be remotely grateful, even if she was able to save his life. More likely he'd disappear one day, or just flat-out kill her. There was probably someone, somewhere, who would pay to know that she was dead.

Loose ends. That was probably it. He had been a loose end ever since she'd walked off his ship in the middle of the night (wearing his armor, no less. That must have pissed him off.) and disappeared into the city-planet of Coruscant. She'd cashed in on his reputation, cached the armor after a day, and laid low for two years after that. Then she'd set out to find some place distant in the galaxy, keep her finger on the pulse of information, and become a quiet little smuggler and tech girl, just another piece of floating scum in the galaxy. Hardly worth noticing. Her Force powers stood her in good stead, and no one but the now-dead Jedi knew that she was more handy with machines than meat. 

"Cassandra, give it up," she muttered to herself after a while, climbing over wreckage even the Jawas didn't want. "You're just flat-out insane. Talking to no one but droids for the last ten years has driven you 'round the twist." She crested a dune and looked down. It was hard to tell the debris apart.

"Bloody hell." It looked as though he'd blasted himself out of the Sarlaac. From the time-frame of the reports she'd gotten he must have done it a week ago, but … could a human really survive out here for a week? No food, no water, nothing but the sun and the sand and the Jawas. Who, after all, really weren't interested in a dying bounty hunter, only in the technology his armor could provide. 

Movement on the sand below her made her screech and jump in surprise, lightning coruscating across her hands before she settled down. Whatever or whoever it was, something was alive down there. Slowly, carefully, keeping one eye on the place where something had moved and one thought open to stray mental cries, she descended the dune. 

_tired…stupid…thirst…tired…sleep…stupid…rest…_

They weren't thoughts. They were primal impulses, and weak ones at that. Cassandra shaded her eyes with one hand as she adjusted them with her Force abilities, the one thing she had been able to do since she was little, scanning the sands as the adjusted to the glaring light. Whatever was making those mental pulses wasn't going to be recognizably human.

It wasn't recognizably Boba Fett, either. One arm looked to have been nearly eaten away by acid; muscle and in some places bone had been exposed to the elements. His back was in raw strips from where someone (probably a Jawa) had peeled his armor away from him… it must have fused with the skin somehow. Probably the jetpack. His hands were still bleeding sluggishly from the fingertips. No hair, and barely no skin on his head. Getting him out of here was going to be interesting. Anything she touched would result in pain of unbelievable proportions. 

Night would help. It'd cool things down, and perhaps she could send him into a hibernation state where he wouldn't feel the pain. In the meantime she had to get him out of the sun. There was probably just enough wreckage to get a shelter up. Piece of metal was stacked onto piece of metal. Her force talents fused them to each other, convinced them they were part of a greater whole again. Machines were so gullible. She'd gotten the better part of one wall and a little bit of roof up when the squishy man grabbed her ankle and made her scream and kick. 

"Wuh…"

Her mind filled in the rest of the sentence with fragments from his thoughts. _Who are you?_ She thought about using the customary answer she used whenever she picked up drifting spacers, rejected it. "Someone who has a moderate interest in keeping you alive," she said, making her voice cold and mechanical. Not that she had to work hard at it. "Now shut up and lie still before you hurt something."

In the back of her mind Cassandra felt the sensation of wry, morbid amusement. But he did lie still and let her finish putting up the shelter. She pulled a thin sheet of plastic out from her pack, spread it out as a blanket, and slowly levitated the dying man onto it, on his back. It was better than the sand, anyway. She began to pick out the grains of sand from his skin, having nothing better to do. Night would come when it did, and Boba Fett would die if he was going to die. She was doing all that she could.

  
  
  
  
Night came. He didn't die, although looking at him all day was starting to make her sick. That and the smell… he smelled as though he'd died, even if there were a few faint sparks of life in the desiccated, acid-eaten husk of a body. She was wrapping her burnoose around her head more to block the smell, now, than to disguise her face. Granted, it was helpful that all he would be able to see of her would be her two golden eyes shining out from the wealth of dust-colored fabric. But it blocked the smell, and that was the important thing. 

After picking all the grains of sand out of his flesh she'd set about working on the half-arm. It was harder than she thought, cleaning that out, but she managed. He lapsed in and out of consciousness while she was working on him, and she wasn't able to pick up anything more coherent than what she'd gotten initially. If anything, he was getting even more delirious. Well, that was to her advantage too. 

When the suns had set she collapsed the shelter with a touch of her hand and a gentle Force-push in the right place. It tipped over and lay dead in the sand. The bounty hunter was unconscious, all to the better. She reached out with her senses and summoned the droid she'd left with her land-speeder. Massiel's lights flew on, and she heard it give a little beep as it extrapolated the fact of her Force-presence from the activation of the land-speeder. "Let's go, Massie," she said to it. "I've found what I came here for."

The droid whined nervously, and Cassandra frowned. It had to be mistaken… hadn't it? "Massie, what do you mean, they're coming?" She knew halfway through his response. Someone had figured out that she was here, and now IG-88, of all people (or was that droids?), was on his way in with backup. Shit.

"Massie, stay there." Cassandra thought quickly. "If I don't summon you in thirty-six hours, come and find what's left." The droid whined worriedly. "I don't have time to explain. Either I'll be fine, or you'll have to find your own way out of here. Either way," she muttered grimly, more to herself than to the droid, "It'll be over by then." She withdrew, broke the connection, and dragged the shelter back up. 

IG-88 probably wanted something out of Boba Fett. Either that or just to make sure that the bounty hunter was dead. Possibly eliminate the competition. It didn't matter why, just as it didn't matter why Cassandra was there now. The only thing that mattered was that soon they would all three be there, and the droid would never let her walk away with Fett. She wasn't sure she could stop him… but then again, he didn't know who she was. None of the bounty hunters really did, not the ones of that caliber anyway. After her first encounter with Fett she'd never given them a reason to know her. That gave her surprise, and surprise gave her an advantage.

Cassandra scowled down at Fett. "You better be worth all this hassle," she said quietly to the unconscious man, "Or I'll find another Sarlaac pit and dump you back in."

Speeder-whine made her head jerk up. Lightning began to trickle over her fingertips again. No more talking to the dead man. She'd have to fight soon.


	3. Questions

Author's Note: Thanks to the people who reviewed! It's nice to know someone's reading this. And for the record: Yes, I am subscribing to the clone background and not the Jaster Mereel background. I hate the Jaster Mereel background. I think it blows goats, and always have. Once again, Boba Fett's not mine, IG-88's not mine, Cassandra is mine, much as I abuse her. Please don't distribute this story without permission.

It didn't take thirty-six hours. It didn't even take one hour for IG-88 to get there. Cassandra hadn't moved from where she stood protectively over the body, a krayt dragon over her hoard, eyes filled with death. If she hadn't been sure about picking up the bounty hunter before, she was now. The simple fact that someone else was threatening to take her prize from her was enough. Territorial, much? she thought wryly. Nah.

IG-88 arrived. He only had two men and a carrier droid with him; he must have been expecting the dead man. Certainly he seemed surprised to see her, in as much as she could discern from non-living body language.

"He's mine." She didn't bother with preamble. The words sounded even more territorial in Huttese.

"…What?" 

"You heard me. Get gone." It wasn't going to work, but if she was unbelievably lucky IG-88 wasn't in this for a fight, and would turn around and head back to whatever rock he'd crawled out from under. Yeah. And maybe the Emperor was off making comedy holo-vids somewhere. 

"You expect me to turn over the biggest pot in the galaxy on the say so of a tiny little girl…" He got about that far before Force lightning blasted him, the carrier droid, and his two cronies backwards. Cassandra winced, feeling sick. She hadn't meant to get the humans. It didn't look like the lightning had done much to the bounty hunter droid, though. Unfortunately. 

"Yes." The purple light died. Boba Fett was awake now, but not moving. Clever, at least, not to draw attention to himself. Cassandra folded her arms and waited.

IG-88 drew itself up slowly, painfully, staring at her with the cautious attitude of someone who expected a mynock and got a rancor. "You're a Jedi…" She could see things clicking together in his mind. Force user meant Jedi. Boba Fett had hunted the Jedi. "If you want him dead, by all means. I just came here to make sure…"

"I don't want him dead."

IG-88 looked uncertain. "Why not?" His tone of voice indicated that she had gone completely out of her mind. For that matter, she was still wondering about that herself. But she gave him the reason he'd at least understand, if not accept.

"Alive, Boba Fett is a known quantity. Dead, it opens up a gap in the politics we both move in. I'd rather not have an unknown factor entering into things at this… delicate stage of the game. As long as he's alive, as long as there's still a Boba Fett out there, no one will try to take his place." It was true, as far as that went. Which wasn't very. 

"We'd all still be better off with him dead," the droid said, and fired at the prone man. Fortunately for the bounty hunter Cassandra had been expecting this. The laser blast glanced harmlessly off the shield she'd put over him, ricocheting off into the growing darkness. That, the lightning she was holding, and keeping Boba Fett alive was starting to tax her strength. Her control over her temper ebbed, faded.

"Stop right there!" she yelled, her voice sounding more like a snarl. "And back off. I didn't bust my ass getting here to have you jumped-up crap-brained jawaswag shit-heel would-bes steal my prize away from me."

IG-88 glared. Cassandra glared back. The two men IG-88 had brought with him were clearly hired thugs from the spaceport; they were staring at Cassandra as though she'd turned into a rancor and was going to eat them. The thought briefly crossed her mind, and she smiled unpleasantly. The droid tried to bargain with her one last time. "Are you sure I can't change your mind about this? I could make you a richer woman than one dead bounty hunter ever could, you know. No matter how good he was."

"He's not dead yet," her smile turned grim, broadened. "And whether I want him for credits or other things is my concern. Leave. Now." And she turned the lightnings loose on them.

Five hours later, when she was sitting at the controls of her ship shaking from the fear and shock at what she'd done, she thought that it might have been the absolute terror of being in the same place as so many notorious hunters that pushed her over the edge. Or maybe it was the emotions she felt at seeing Boba Fett again, after their last meeting so precipitous, so long ago. Or maybe it was just weariness, hunger, thirst, and annoyance at being blocked so close to leaving the damned desert planet. Either way, she threw purple lightning around that night such as she'd never seen or done, ever, in her life. IG-88 flew backwards, twitched, and was still, and his two cronies writhed in pain. She kept it up until she was so disgusted with it all she had to fall to her knees, turn her head to the side, and vomit into the sand.

They wouldn't be any more trouble. Perhaps she'd 'killed' the droid bounty hunter; she neither knew nor cared. It was more than time to get out of there. "Massie," she said hoarsely across the distance, when she could speak again without vomiting. "Massie. Bring the carrier." 

Stupid bounty hunter. He'd better be worth it.

  
  
  
Things didn't become any clearer in the ship, although Cassandra was profoundly glad to leave Tatooine. The medical droids were taking care of the bounty hunter, and she'd already started the accelerated healing process. With his body being encouraged to work so hard to heal him he'd be exhausted, and hopefully sleep through the journey. After the exhausted stage came the ravenous stage, and with any luck they'd be home by that time. And then would come the questions. She didn't want to answer any questions from the bounty hunter until she was on her own ground. 

An R2 unit beeped at her elbow. She glanced down, saw one of its many appendages holding a glass of fruit juice, and another holding one of the nutrient candy-bars she'd grown fond of over the years. "I'm being mothered, is that it?" 

The R2 unit bleeped insistently, and Cassandra chuckled. "All right. All right, give." She took the drink and candy bar from the droid. 

"My Lady."

The one droid that wasn't an R2 or R4, her revised and revamped protocol droid Daemon, was standing in the doorway. She'd given instructions to be left alone, which meant that this was serious. Or at least that Daemon thought it was serious. "What is it, Daemon?"

"My Lady, I have concerns about the man you have brought aboard."

So do I, she thought. "What concerns are these?"

"I've been scanning the data-banks for information on this man. My Lady, if he really is Boba Fett as you seem to think, you could be in considerable danger by letting him live and aiding in his recovery as you are."

Cassandra smiled humorlessly. "I know."

"Then… My lady, it is of course not my place to question something you have so clearly made up your mind on, but are you absolutely sure you want to do this?"

She took a deep breath and thought a bit before answering the question. The protocol droid, patient as always, waited. "A long time ago, when the Jedi were being hunted and killed, Boba Fett came after me. Probably because of my Force talents, even though I wasn't actually a Jedi. Given the way he acted, I think his orders were more to capture me, to take to Palpatine so I could be turned to the Dark Side, or something. I… managed to escape, but at a cost. Then, twenty days ago I began having dreams, of this planet, of him, of other things. Ordinarily I wouldn't have paid it any attention, but…"

Both droid and human looked back towards the medical bay where the formidable hunter rested, if it could be called rest. "That one living through a Sarlaac's stomach is cause for anyone's concern."

"Something like that." Cassandra turned back to the ship's controls. "If he lives, he is indebted to me in a way that, I hope, will make it difficult for him to repay. Whatever else he is, he has a modicum of honor from everything I've heard about his business dealings."

"Honor?" the droid asked skeptically.

"It's in his best interest to. If he has a reputation for double-dealing, for cheating his employers, no one will hire him. If he has a reputation for dealing fairly, if ruthlessly…"

"I see…"

"If he dies, he dies. While he lives, I will make sure he is too weak to do anything other than plan for when he regains his strength. Then, with a little luck, I can bring him back to Tatooine, leave him there, and be out of the system before he realizes it was me."

The droid was silent for a long while. Cassandra paid studious attention to guiding the ship, despite the autopilot being on and the path ahead of them being clear. "That still doesn't explain why you went after him in the first place."

Cassandra sighed. "No, it doesn't. And I wish I could explain. I don't know why I went after him, and I don't know why…" she trailed off, hoping Daemon hadn't heard about the little fight with IG-88. It would be even more embarrassing to explain why she fought to keep a half-dead bounty hunter who had half-raped her the first time they'd met. "I just don't know."

The protocol droid gave a surprisingly prissy snort. "Well, you'd better figure out soon, My Lady. The way you've been going, he'll be awake sooner than you thought, and then I won't be the one asking these questions."

She laughed. It wasn't a particularly humor-filled laugh, but it was the first laugh in several days. "Daemon, my dear, answering Boba Fett's questions will be the least of my worries. Even by the time he's in any shape to ask any, he'll be as weak as a newborn bantha cub. I can handle him for as long as I need to." She turned back to the controls, a clear dismissal and end to the conversation.

The droid sighed as it turned to go, a surprisingly concerned sound. She thought she heard it mutter something as it left, but wasn't sure. Outside the cockpit she could hear the little R2 and R4 units bleeping, and then the door whooshed closed and there was blessed silence. Cassandra closed her eyes, thinking, wondering. She should just space him while she had the chance, but even her supposedly loose morals wouldn't allow her to dump a sick, injured, possibly dying man into vacuum. A few angry tears leaked out of her eyes as she mentally berated herself for getting involved in something she should have left in the past. When would she learn to leave well enough alone? Probably never.

Stupid bounty hunter. But now she was afraid that he _was_ worth it. 


	4. Stray

Author's Note: Not mine. Well, Cass is mine, but Boba Fett's not mine. Much as I'd enjoy him. Please read, review, etc, comment. Thanks to Toon and Grrl4Vic for listening to me rant and helping to hash out some details of the story.  
Warning: This story contains some seriously disturbing elements, such as statutory **willing** sex. If you have issues with this, don't read. The story's rated R for a reason, folks.

  
  
  
_Definitely not the stuff a girl's dreams are made of._

Cassandra stared wryly down at the unconscious bounty hunter, somewhat relieved not to feel any sorts of surging of emotions. That assuaged one fear, anyway, that she was doing this out of some bizarre lingering feeling for the man, something strange and twisted born of that one night of … whatever it had been. It hadn't been rape, she had to grudgingly admit, much as she would have liked to hold that over his head. But she couldn't acknowledge it as rape, because she had been at least as domineering, and damn well willing. And, much as she was sure it was a sign of impending psychosis on her part, she occasionally wanted more of it. It was like the sort of extreme sports rich idiots participated in. Sky-diving, rancor-baiting, sex with Boba Fett. She'd never found anyone to match the thrill.

Lust, Cassandra grudgingly admitted, was all right. Lust was a perfectly healthy thing to feel. Love, on the other hand, was unacceptable.

And non-existent, she realized with relief. Standing in the medical bay, looking down at the half-dead bounty hunter, all she felt was confusion and a smattering of pity. She sighed, and reached out her fingertips to brush against his temples, lightly, careful not to damage the new-growing skin or the blistered sores that would be there for a little while longer. He didn't look as bad as he had when she'd pulled him out of the desert, but he was nowhere near out of danger yet. 

"Subject is stabilized, ready for treatment," the medical droid said calmly. Calmer than her, but it felt good to refer to him as 'he' and 'subject.' 

"Beginning treatment," she indicated to the droid, and closed her eyes. This was the tricky part, healing him, doing tricky biological things she'd never gotten used to but was more skilled at than she had been. Accelerating the healing process, flooding his system with endorphins and tranquilizers, skyrocketing his white blood cell count, slowing heartbeat and respiration to the absolute minimum so that his body didn't have to work any harder at non-vital things. The preliminaries over, she turned her attention to more specific wounds.

The disfigured, nearly eaten arm was first. It had been first last time, and it still had a lot of work to go. She sat there in meditation for seven hours, not moving, barely breathing, monitored by the silent medical droids and R2 units. And then, finally, Cassandra sat up and staggered over to her bunk and collapsed into a fitful sleep.

  
  
  
Sixteen years ago, he had been young and stupid. Young, stupid, and far too easily led around by the gonads. But she had been … intoxicating, a word he wouldn't normally have applied to a fifteen year old (so much older, so much). And very, very willing… to the point of being dominating (damn her) and nearly breaking some of his limbs as he'd broken her arm earlier in the struggle to keep her from escaping. Which she had done later, anyway (damn her, damn her). She'd never know how close she came to just walking out of there. 

So why was he dreaming of her, now, when he was dying or dead, older and wiser and so much more tired. He'd just gone down the belly of a Sarlaac, come up fighting and screaming and covered in acid and bantha hair. Collapsed on the sand and died for he didn't know how long only to be picked up again in the cool of the evening by a cloaked and hooded form (eyes so strange, so familiar) who had carried him off for purposes unknown. He wondered if he should be concerned. He wondered if he cared.

Fever felt as though it was still raging through his body. Other than that he had no sense of physical well or ill-being. He didn't know where he was, what he was doing there, whether he was still dying on the sand or in some Imperial medical bay. Or worse, Rebel medical bay. Not that it mattered, there wasn't much he could do about it anyway (wait) as weak as he was. He spent most of his time in this peculiar dead dream state. But sometimes there were moments of lucidity. Sometimes he woke up and saw eyes.

  
  
  
Cassandra woke up with an unbelievably foul taste in her mouth. She'd never managed to figure out why she felt like she had a hangover after doing intensive biological Force-work. Usually when she woke up she didn't care enough to do a scan of her body and find out. She reached for the bottle of water by her bedside and drained half of it, making a mental note to thank her droids when she became more coherent.

"He's still asleep," a voice from the corner reported. Daemon. Would the droid never stop worrying? Cassandra sat up with a groan. "Have you figured out what you're planning to do with him?"

"Not yet…" She leaned on the edge of the bunk, stared at the floor. No nausea yet. That was something, anyway. She counted to ten, slowly. Ten again. 

"He won't stay asleep forever," the droid nagged. Worse than a mother, sometimes. At least the droid had an off switch. 

"I know." Ten again. After the fourth counting to ten she deemed it safe to stand up. The room spun, but that was all.

"Daemon, if it comes to that, I can always turn him in for the bounty," Cassandra shook her head slowly, "Do you know what people will pay for Boba Fett, alive and in good condition?" Even as she said it, though, she felt a little chill run up and down her spine. People would pay, that was certain, and then what they would do to him was even more certain. If they didn't put in nerve-blocks and cranial bombs to make sure he did what they wanted, how they wanted, when they wanted, they would torture and kill him for what he'd done to their father, son, sister, mother, whatever. Could she bring herself to consign even Boba Fett to that fate? She knew she couldn't.

The protocol droid knew it too. "You wouldn't do that if your life depended on it, Cassandra, and we both know it."

Cassandra sighed. "No, I wouldn't." She drained the other half of the water bottle, tossed it in the bin on the other side of the room. "I think what's going to end up happening is I'm going to turn him loose in his ship when he's recovered, if I can find it." 

If the droid had eyebrows, it would have arched them into its hair, if it had hair as well. "And how exactly are you going to accomplish either task?"

"For the first, the same way I accomplish anything. With luck, skill, and the Force. For the first… sedatives. Lots and lots of sedatives. And did I mention the sedatives?" Cassandra grinned a very crooked grin, and the droid gave her a distinctly admonishing look.

"Do you really think you're going to get away with that? Especially with him."

She shrugged slightly. "I have to."

"And are you going to tell him…"

"No." Cassandra looked down the hall towards the medical bay. "No. Not unless I have to. I don't know what his response would be, and I don't want to take any chances on finding out. Not with this."

One of her R2 units trundled up and bleeped punctual warning that she was two hours from her home. She patted its dome affectionately. "All right. I'll be up there in a second." She looked up at the protocol droid, who made a surprisingly huffy noise and moved towards the medical bay. 

"I suppose I might as well prepare your stray for arrival."

Cassandra smiled slightly at the thought of the bounty hunter being called a 'stray.' The thought stayed with her as she made her cautious way up to the cockpit and sank down into the pilot's seat. 'Stray,' yet. As though he was a lost puppy or child to be picked up and adopted. Well, this puppy had fangs, and was just as likely to sink them into you as your enemy. And as much as she talked over and around him, she must never forget that. She knew what would happen if she did. She knew what happened last time. 


	5. Planetside

Author's Note: Not mine. Cass and Romy are mine. Please read and review. This chapter should be much less disturbing/dark than the last.

  
Music was the first thing he was aware of, a woman, singing… a lullaby, or something like it. It was a sensation that, although he was academically familiar with it and could put all the pieces together to arrive at the conclusion, he had never personally experienced before. It was something that usually occurred in conjunction with mothers, and mothers were also a thing he had never personally experienced before. He tried to get up, to ask the singing woman however roughly it might take where he was and what he was doing there, but he was literally so exhausted that he couldn't move. The sensation was… aggravating. 

So he lay there, thinking, taking stock of his surroundings. He wasn't dead, but he only half-remembered the fever dreams of the past while… he didn't know how long he'd been in the Sarlaac, or how long he'd been completely incapacitated after… what had happened? Had he really blown his way out of there? One more thing to ask the singer. If she was still around when he woke up. He was most likely in a medical chamber of some sort, although his body was so numb it was hard to tell anything about where he was, what he was lying on, or what he might have had poking into or out of his body. For that matter, it was hard to tell whether or not he had all his limbs intact, although he thought he did. He had a vague sense of being… whole. Complete. He also had the vague sensation, from the way he kept tingling, that this wasn't always the case. If that was so, then perhaps he owed more to his rescuer than he thought, assuming he got out of here alive. He never assumed altruistic motives; he knew the universe better than that.

Still, whoever was patching him up apparently wanted him alive and healthy. That would be their mistake, then, if they tried to do anything with, to, or against him. Alive and healthy, with or without his armor and weapons, he was just as dangerous either way. If the person currently holding him didn't turn him loose as soon as he was able to fend for himself, he or she would learn that very, very quickly. 

  
  
  
Cassandra was actually feeling reassured enough that she was singing while she worked, soft songs she'd learned to sing only recently. The life support and stabilizer machines didn't really need any maintenance, her droids having performed their tasks in their usual exemplary fashion, but the housekeeping calmed and soothed her nerves. Which she desperately needed, after the trip she'd just made. 

Apart from the injured bounty hunter she was the only sentient being on the continent, and she liked it that way. Granted, it was a small continent, but still. The Empire had had no use for this planet except as a shore leave planet, and the Rebellion didn't have any need for it either. The people native to the planet were a relatively quiet people, peaceful and barely capable of space-flight technology. They thought her to be a wondrous sorceress, and left her alone for the most part until and unless one of them was gravely injured or in some other dire need. There were no minerals to mine here, no special crops to be had, and it was a remote enough planet in a remote enough corner of the galaxy to be inconvenient to develop as anything else. There was a small spaceport on the other side of the planet, and she had her own launching pad on her island continent. It was good enough for her. 

Despite the presence of the bounty hunter, she was actually in a relatively good mood. She was home, and it reassured her to be on her own ground, planetside, with the potential threat in her care. There was no problem that would arise now that she could not handle, or at least it felt that way.

"My Lady," Daemon interrupted her thoughts and her song. "There is an incoming communication from Star's Spire. It's Romy. And I believe there's an incoming ship from the main continent as well, most likely with a petitioner."

Cassandra groaned inwardly. Suddenly the day was looking a lot busier than she'd liked. "All right… guide the ship into the docks, and I'll be with them as soon as I've finished the call… hopefully it won't take too long."

Daemon nodded, left. Cassandra took one last look at the life support machines, made sure they were all functioning properly, and left as well. 

The communications array, the main one at least, was in the middle of the hydroponics garden. It gave her a relax atmosphere to deal with people in, and it disconcerted … others… who might have thought they were contacting a station like their own, all chrome and metal and plascrete. And in Romy's case, it gave her a reassuring background, aiding in Cassandra's efforts to convince the other woman that her lifestyle wasn't completely insane. Despite Romy being only a few years older than Cassandra, she kept trying to mother her. Cassandra supposed it had something to do with the fact of Romy actually having a childhood and a relatively normal upbringing, whereas Cassandra had been on the run nearly all her life. 

"Cassandra, go." Romy's image flickered to life. "Hi Romy."

"Hi yourself," Romy's image smiled. "How've you been? You've been out of contact for a couple weeks, usually you give warning before you go away."

"I had… urgent business," Cassandra shrugged slightly. "Something was going down and I couldn't wait for the opportunity to disappear. Salvage operation, I didn't want anyone to get there before I did."

"Ah." Romy's eyes were shrewd. "Salvage operation on Tatooine?"

Cassandra sighed and slumped slightly. "Yeah. Tethys has been talking to you, right?" She named off one of her most loquacious R4 droids. 

"Just a bit. Jabba's barge?" Cassandra nodded again, and Romy sighed. "Cass, that's dangerous. And worse, it's unnecessarily dangerous. What could possibly be so valuable that you'd go to Tatooine… of all places, and go digging around in the remains of a Hutt operation?"

"Hard merchandise," Cassandra muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." 

Romy gave the younger woman a distinct look, but didn't press the issue. "All right. Well, I just wanted to make sure you're okay. The others are out, I didn't think anyone else needed to hear that, but I wanted to know for myself where you'd been."

Daemon must have told her there was an incoming supplicant. Otherwise Cassandra knew she'd never get off this easy. She'd've gotten off worse if she'd told Romy who she'd picked up; most of the people she knew at Star's Spire were fairly above-the-board, and didn't pay too much attention to bounty hunters and smugglers and spice dealers and their reputations. Romy, on the other hand, knew exactly who Boba Fett was, and if Cassandra had told her that that was who she'd picked up there'd have been ten kinds of hell to pay.

"I'd better go," she said, glancing over to one side as she heard the sounds of a ship being towed into dock. "Time to pay the rent."

Romy nodded. "You do that. Be careful." She signed off before Cassandra had a chance to ask her what she meant.

It was going to be a long day, and it had started out so well. Cassandra allowed herself a bit of an internal whine before she went off to the docks. Fortunately it was only one supplicant instead of a whole family of them. A man who, after some embarrassing (for him anyway) conversation, revealed that he had a slight problem with impotence, and he and his wife dearly wanted children. At least it wasn't something more involved than a physical exam and possibly the application of a little Force. She started the process of reassuring him, until she saw the outline of a figure reflected in his eyes.

Cassandra spun, whirling around before the man she had been talking to had even registered the presence behind her. Shoving him to one side behind a small pier post, she crouched in a battle-ready position. It wouldn't do any good; as good as she was she couldn't dodge blaster bolts. The voice, although not hidden behind a helmet or distorted by micro-speakers, was as low and as menacing and as frightening as ever. Chills took her by the scruff of the neck and shook her as she suddenly felt fifteen again.

"I knew I recognized you…"

Shit.


	6. Awake

Author's Note: Hope people are liking this so far. I'm not entirely sure about this chapter, as it contains the first actual conversation Fett and Cassandra have had in... well, ever, considering they didn't really talk much the last time they met. But.. here it is, for general consumption. Please review. 

  
  
Cassandra had a few seconds of panic before sense took over and she started thinking furiously. He was out of the medical bay, which was a minor miracle unto itself, and somehow had managed to drag himself all the way to the docks, acquiring a blaster from… well, she'd worry about that later. But he had to be exhausted, so with any luck the littlest push would knock him flat on his unarmored butt. 

She'd worry about what to do about him recognizing her later.

Her hands raised slowly into the air as the man she had been talking to before watched in startled fear. "Easy, there…" she said softly, but with projection. "I don't want to hurt you, and you want to get out of here alive. So just take it easy, okay?" She kept talking, a steady stream of inane babble as she reached into his body, found the endorphins and tranquilizers, and sent them flooding through his system. He dropped like a stone, not even managing to get one shot off. Cassandra took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. 

"Who… what…" the man behind her babbled. 

"Someone I am in the process of … healing," she took a deep breath and walked towards the unconscious bounty hunter. "Unfortunately, the last time he was conscious he was in a somewhat… dangerous situation. I don't believe he knew where he was when he woke up." The acid burns still left on Boba Fett's body gave silent testimony to her words, and the man behind her took on a more sympathetic look.

"Oh… oh dear." He watched as she knelt down, ducked her head and shoulders under the bounty hunter's arm and slid her arm around his waist, lifted him with uncanny ease for someone so tiny, and proceeded to half-carry half-drag him into the complex. "Uh…"

"I'm fine," Cassandra said, smiling slightly. Really, she was using the Force to help her carry the man, but it didn't hurt to have her reputation reinforced. Between her, the man, and the droids they got Fett situated again in the medical bay. "Let's get you taken care of."

Cassandra spent a good few hours working on her guest. But she still didn't turn her back on the bounty hunter again.

  
  
  
"All right, what the hell happened?" 

Later, when the man had gone and evening had crept up on her, Cassandra stood over the security terminal in the medical bay watching the footage. She watched the bounty hunter open his eyes, stare at the ceiling and around the room as best as he could. She watched him practically fall out of the bed, somehow landing on his feet in a crouch that looked more like it was keeping him from falling over, but still looked deadly enough. She watched him totter slowly, carefully, somehow finding the hidden blaster she kept for … recalcitrant patients (like him). Damn. Damn him for being a stubborn bastard and damn her for being careless. She should never have left him unrestrained. She should have anticipated this; she knew bloody well what he was capable of.

"I'm sorry," Daemon said behind her. She shook her head slowly.

"It's not your fault. I was careless."

"I'm sorry for not reminding you that you had an evil, indomitable bounty hunter in your care?" the droid replied with characteristic irascibility. 

"I should have left him to die in the desert," she mused out loud.

"Might have been an idea."

Cassandra pointedly ignored the droid, checking the bounty hunter over to make sure he hadn't hurt himself in the walk over to shoot her… or whatever. His breathing was shallow, his system overtaxed, but he wasn't in any immediate danger. And he wasn't getting up again anytime soon either, for which she was profoundly grateful. And then again… that was what she'd thought last time.

She put the restraints on.

He grabbed her wrist as she was tying down the last of them, his right arm. Suddenly she was profoundly grateful she'd thought to do this, otherwise it might have been her neck he'd grabbed. He turned his head, about the only thing he could move, and stared at her with a gaze intense enough to kill, full of… not hate, but something colder and much more frightening. Wariness and awareness. His grip was like iron, despite how exhausted he had to be. She had seriously underestimated this man. 

"Why?"

Calm, she told herself. Stay calm. She forced herself to relax. "I don't know," she replied, honestly. He would probably be able to tell if she was lying with almost as much accuracy as she could. Besides, she wasn't up for constructing any sort of elaborate story. Behind his field of vision the droid was moving for a tranquilizer; Cassandra stopped it in mid-movement, shutting it down. 

"Why don't you know?" His voice rolled over her consciousness like water over her head, drowning her. Memories of what had happened last time, worries of what would happen this time. 

"I…"

"Don't know," he finished for her. Then, surprising her, he turned her loose, as though she was no further use to him. She stepped back out of reach and stared, affronted in some way she could neither define nor understand.

"I could have left you to die out there," she informed him. "IG-88 really wanted you dead. Among others."

"I know." His gaze flickered around the room, taking everything in, analyzing it for possible escape. Cassandra folded her arms and watched him, the deadly man at work. It was almost interesting in a detached sort of way. How would he escape and kill her. 

"I had planned on fixing you up and turning you loose to savage the world again, but if your plans include a blaster and my death, I might as well just kill you now and save myself the trouble of dodging." That hadn't come out at all right. Oh well. 

The bounty hunter looked at her as though she'd finally done something interesting. "Where's my armor? My ship?"

"Safe," she walked over and turned the droid in the other direction before turning him back on again. "Daemon, go fix up some food for the two of us, hmm? That won't be necessary," she said quickly as the droid headed back over for the tranquilizers. "Just the food."

"You've lost what remains of sanity you had," the droid said flatly, but went off anyway. Cassandra sighed and leaned her head against the doorframe. It was probably right, but oh well. She watched the bounty hunter listen to their exchange, thinking. 

"If I let you up enough to eat, will you refrain from attacking me, trying to escape, or anything else equally foolish?" _The first duty of the prisoner is to escape_ flashed through her mind and then was gone. 

"All right." He was biding his time, and she knew it. He knew that she knew it. Everyone knew. But for now, at least, they had an uneasy truce. As long as she didn't do anything remotely threatening or restrictive that she couldn't enforce and as long as he didn't do anything sudden that might make her jump and zap him. A very uneasy truce. Hell.

The droid came back, after an uncomfortably long and silent wait, with enough food to provision a small army. Cassandra pulled over a small table within easy reach of both of them, and undid all restraints on the bounty hunter above the waist. It would be uncomfortable, but more reassuring for her. She pulled up a chair and sat down, moving with great care and deliberation and watching him watch her. After several long minutes he sat up slowly, awkwardly, and reached for a piece of bread. Another minute or two and he was practically shoveling the food down, as Cassandra had half-expected. She was, however, amazed to find that he could look deadly and dangerous and formidable even when half-starved, exhausted, and weak.

When the pile of food was half-gone she moved it away. He looked up at her with a gaze that was half-glare, half-curiosity. "Much as it might be funny to watch you eat yourself sick, I don't really feel like cleaning up your puke from the floor."

Fett leaned back slowly, lying back down again and watching her. Cassandra leaned up against a wall, watching him in return. Neither of them trusted the other enough to look away, and she didn't trust him not to try and grab her if she tried to put the restraints back on. His attitude, far from the violent and unfriendly warmth she'd encountered last time, was perfectly cold and controlled, as calm as the ocean on a clear day. He'd grown in the intervening sixteen years, older and more dangerous. She watched him with a growing uneasiness until she was screaming at him inside her mind to go back to sleep. After what felt like hours, he did. She let out a long, shuddering sigh, deepened his sleep until even he wouldn't wake up from the sound of her movements and the touch of her hand, and put the restraints back on. And then she forced herself to walk … _walk_, not run… from the room.

Several doors down, in the privacy of her room, she allowed herself to collapse into a shaking, nerve-wracked heap. She hadn't anticipated this reaction, especially when he was the one in restraints this time, and yet she couldn't help the overwhelming fear that made her nauseous every time he was awake in the same room as she. The relief she'd felt at being on her home ground with her home defenses was gone, replaced with a sickening terror. Whether it was fear of him or what he represented, or even whether it was fear that was really avoidance of having to think about anything else, she didn't know. But having the bounty hunter around was definitely taking more of a toll on her than she ever expected. 

Still shaking, she crawled over to the terminal and began to compose a message to Romy. The sooner she got Fett his armor and ship, the sooner he'd be out of her home and her life. And despite the effort she'd gone to in fetching him she desperately wanted him gone. 

Cassandra ignored the nagging fear that that thought brought up as well. Fett, plus ship, plus armor, and gone should have equaled something far more frightening than minus ship and armor and plus restraints. It should have been the greater of two evils, and yet she couldn't tell the difference. She finished the message and crawled into bed, curling up in the sunlight that streamed in from her window and trying to take comfort in the familiar surroundings. 


	7. Surprise

Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry it took so long! I was graduating! And moving! Please don't send bounty hunters after me! Except maybe one.... ;) Should be updating more regularly now, with the whole having been moved in thing and all. That and the whole having seen Attack of the Clones... and wow. The ideas I've gotten since then... Here's this chapter, and I hope it was worth the wait!

  
  
  
Morning. The sun was streaming through the window and directly onto her closed eyes, so she wasn't dead. Moving around on the bed told her that she was still in it, and un-shackled. Chances were, then, that Boba Fett hadn't escaped yet. Cassandra rolled over in the bed, opening her eyes slowly against the glare of the sun. She must have slept for nearly twelve hours. Well, it was a hazard when she used her Force abilities that intensively. And when she was as afraid as she had been.

She pulled herself to a sitting position and looked around the room. Nothing had been disturbed. She closed her eyes, leaned sideways against a wall, and let her consciousness filter through the systems of her home compound. Everything was quiet, the droids going about their business, Daemon fussing over some small detail as usual. She rubbed her fingertips against her temples. Nothing seemed particularly out of place, but she could feel that things were about to go spiraling out of control with an instinct that had nothing to do with the Force. The bounty hunter had woken up, and everything was up for grabs from here on out.

Well, hell.

Cassandra went out into the gardens, taking the scenic route to the medical bay. Perhaps walking slowly and taking things calmly would give her some sort of clue as to what she should do next. And the gardens were relaxing, which was something she had the sneaking suspicion she desperately needed right now.

At least he was asleep when she got into the medical bay. That was something… a great deal, actually, and a great deal less stress. Not having to deal with an awake Boba Fett meant not having to answer any of his prying questions, and she could go about her work in peace. She sank gratefully onto a chair Daemon had left for her and placed her hands on either side of his head, closing her eyes. She settled into the trance.

A couple of hours and several headaches later she had managed to reconstruct his arm entirely, leaving only a thin layer of aggravated, red skin to show for what had been done by the Sarlacc. She opened her eyes, grabbed a glass of water, grinned at her triumph. She'd have him on his feet and out of her home before either of them had anticipated. And the sooner that happened, the sooner she could relax. 

Especially if he was going to keep doing that. Cassandra stared down at the very open, very awake (very hypnotic) eyes staring up into hers. She backed up, swallowed the frightened scream that rose in her throat, more frightened at her response than the fact that he was awake. That he was awake meant she'd been doing her job; the manacles were in anticipation of that. That she should feel her heart leap up into her throat out of… what? Fear? Lust? Anger? She didn't know. She didn't want to know. Probably fear, anyway.

"Why?"

He was rasping, and this time she knew it wasn't because he was normally quiet-voiced. The time he'd spent in the stomach of the Sarlacc might have taken an irreparable toll on his throat and voice. It made him almost more frightening, more reminiscent of his armored, helmeted self.

She knew what he was asking, too. He'd asked it before. "I told you… I don't know."

"Lie…" he said, and she realized exactly how exhausted he was. He also was developing the faint traces of an accent, though she couldn't tell from where.

"No…" she protested, although to some extent it was true. She damn well wasn't up to confessing deep-down feelings of whatever to a bounty hunter who'd nearly turned her in to die years ago, though. 

"Why?"

One syllable words. And it was more of a battle than she'd been in for a long time. She looked away, making herself busy-work with the medical monitors. She didn't go near the restraints. "Because I could."

There was a choking sound that she could barely identify as laughter, and then it died. "Why?"

Cassandra took a deep breath. Goddamn, the man was persistent. Well, she'd known he was in some aspects, but why now, why about this which couldn't concern him that much… not more than staying alive another day, anyway. Or getting out of here. Why was he interested in her motivations? He should have been plotting his escape. She tried to think of something he would believe. He believed in the general uselessness of the rest of the universe. All right, then. "Because I was the only one who could do something. And as pleasant as the galaxy might be with you dead, I have my own reasons for keeping you around a little while longer." She let all the emotion drain from her voice, and forced it to drain from her mind as well. Putting on the uncaring, ruthless identity she sometimes wore. It helped, a little.

"And those are…?" he rasped. She chuckled grimly, humorlessly.

"Those are on a need to know basis. Right now you have no need to know. Don't worry, I'll tell you when the time comes." From the expression on his face, this was a line he'd used often enough on other people, and he didn't like being on the receiving end. It gave her hope and a little bit of her courage back to see the scowl in his eyes, no matter how much he kept his face expressionless. She turned back to the medical sensors, blinked as something she'd read five minutes ago finally registered, and swore creatively in Huttese. 

"What?" He didn't sound at all nervous, which was relatively impressive considering he'd been near death a week ago and might very well be again.

"You've picked up an infection… probably all the damn sand." Her fingers flew across the keypad for a few seconds before she gave up and did it by Force. "I'm programming a course of antibiotics… I don't know how it'll do without the bacta, but supply ships like that are few and far between, so…"

"So no bacta," he nodded slightly, as best he could from his supine, pinned position. 

"Pretty much." Cassandra glanced over, watched him shiver slightly as the cold chemicals began to enter his bloodstream. As few as possible, she'd made sure of that, but it was still a hefty dose. He'd start to feel out of it after a while. "How'd you get out?" It was a question she'd been waiting for a time like this to ask. She figured he'd be more receptive to questions half-drugged. 

"Thermal detonator…" his eyes were rolling back in his head, but he definitely looked as though he was fighting to stay awake. Perhaps he knew how desperate he looked, and didn't care. "Blaster."

"Explains the burns," she shrugged. And the acid-eaten arm, but she didn't say it out loud. Time enough for him to figure out how bad off he'd been later, if at all. Damned if she was going to tell him.

"You?"

It took her a few minutes to figure out what he was asking. When she had, she wondered why he'd bothered. It wasn't like there were many Jedi for him to hunt down anymore, and it wasn't like anyone was paying him a great deal to try. If he tried hunting her down… well, she was ready this time. She hadn't spent a lifetime… someone's lifetime… hiding from him with as much success as she'd had out of luck alone. "It…"

His eyes flew open, blazing (she hadn't thought brown that warm could blaze) with a strength of will that made her blink. "Tell me."

Cassandra gave the answer she'd given for the last five, six years. "I used what weapons I had to hand." She sighed. Dammit, now he was awake, and if he'd fought off the first hit of the antibiotics he was probably going to stay that way. He glared at her, clearly unwilling to accept that answer. She stared back, unwilling to give him any other.

"Mother!" Footsteps pelting into the medical bay made her whip her head around. She hadn't heard the boat coming, hadn't sensed anyone's presence. The droids hadn't alerted her, but then the droids never did when Kashya or Romy showed up. Cassandra's eyes widened, flashed an angry gold, and she swore in Huttese again. Romy must have decided to send her over, knowing Cass would have the bounty hunter in restraints, knowing even she wouldn't take a chance with her own safety, much less Kashya's. "Mother, Romy said…" The girl skidded to a stop at the sight of the half-naked, half-burned, all-wounded bounty hunter, covered in old scars and new bandages. "Oh!!"

Cassandra sighed. And of all the entrances, too, Kashya had come in the one Fett could actually see. His head had turned at the first sound of footsteps, his hands clenching as they wanted to reach for a blaster that wasn't there with a mobility they didn't have. 

"Who's that?" The girl and the bounty hunter spoke at the same time. Cassandra sighed. Of all the times… she went over and stood behind Kasyha, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders more in case she should do anything stupid than for any kind of reassurance. Kasyha never really needed reassurance anymore.

"Your father."


	8. Conversations

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! As you can see, I should be updating this more often now. :) Hope you all enjoy the ride as much as I'm enjoying the drive!

  
  
Tethys and Cassius were tending to the bounty hunter. Cassandra wasn't going near him for several hours, not until she calmed down, not after the entrance Kasyha had made. Cassandra's dry comment, which (to be fair) had been made at least partly for the shock value and to get a bit of her own in at the bounty hunter, had resulted in an explosion of babble. Romy, who had entered shortly after Kashya, admonishing the girl not to go barging in like that even while she gave Cassandra an I-told-you-so look. Kashya herself, looking from mother to the bounty hunter with wide eyes and screeching surprise at the top of her lungs. Cassandra, trying to get both of them to shut up long enough so she could think, all the while wondering if the laughter she was trying to suppress was hysterical or not. In the end it had been the bounty hunter's rasping "What…?" that had stopped them all cold in their tracks.

"Out." Cassandra had said in a tone that brooked no refusal. And, to Fett, "I'll speak with you, later." She'd practically dragged them all into the sand garden and then fallen over on a rock bench, one arm shading her eyes from the sun. After a few minutes she'd directed two of her droids to watch the bounty hunter, not moving.

"Well, that could have been better." Romy said finally.

"Oh, shut up," Cassandra muttered. She rolled over to look at her old friend. "You shouldn't have let Kashya run in like that. And you," she directed a very even stare at Kashya, who was still muttering to herself. "What the hell backwater planet were you raised on? You know better than to go barging in like that when I've got a patient."

"Sorry," Kashya muttered, sounding more shell-shocked than sorry. "Is that really…"

Cassandra nodded, and Romy let out an explosive breath. "You know, I thought you were crazy before, but… why exactly are you keeping him around? He was bad news to begin with, and he hasn't gotten any …"

"Nicer?"

"Not really a word I can see associated with him, but it's as good as any. You know what I mean. He's dangerous, and you're keeping him in your home… And with not just yourself around, but your daughter as well."

"And whose fault is that?" Cassandra lay back, shielding her eyes from the sun again.

"She has a right to know. So does he."

"Here? Now? It's hardly the best time for any of us, him included."

"You can stop talking about both of us like we're not here…" Kasyha interjected wryly. "Well, me, anyway."

Both women chuckled. "I'm sorry…" Cassandra sighed, sitting up. "It's not exactly how I wanted … well, either of you to meet each other." She looked over in the direction of the medical bay. "And Romy's right… it would probably have been better, safer, if you'd never met at all. He's not exactly the… mmm. Safest of people."

"So why'd you sleep with him?" Kashya asked bluntly.

"I was young and stupid. And I didn't see that I had much of a choice… it worked, anyway." She shook her head slightly. "It's a complicated story. The short of it is, yeah, a woman's body can be her greatest weapon. But never underestimate the power of the universe to laugh in your face if you actually try it on people like your father."

Kashya gave her mother and foster mother a look that Cassandra privately thought had been patented by teenagers of all species all over the galaxy. "You two are no help whatsoever."

"Thank you," Cassandra and Romy chorused. 

"So I'm going to go talk to someone who just might actually help…"

It took Cassandra and Romy a little while to associate the words 'help' with the concept 'Fett' without including 'getting away from' in there somewhere. By the time the two women had realized what she was up to, the girl had locked herself in with the immobilized bounty hunter. Cassandra banged her head softly against the door a couple of times, then turned around and closed her eyes.

"What?" Romy asked impatiently. "Use your powers. Open the door, I know you can do that, I've seen you."

"Yes, but if I do that then you know what else I do? I undermine her ability to go into dangerous situations by herself. And face the consequences." Cassandra stared at the door as though she'd stare through it. "Just like I did."

  
  
  
Kashya slid into the room and locked the door, keeping her back to the wall. She'd heard just enough stories about the man who had fathered her to be wary of him, although she didn't exactly know what she was being wary of. She'd also seen enough dangerous people, her mother included, to know one when she saw him, even strapped to the medical table as he was. She kept to the wall, kept her back against the solid surface, and stayed where both of them could see each other.

"So what's your name?" she asked finally.

"Boba Fett."

The tone of voice in which he said that indicated that a certain kind of response was expected. Unfortunately, Kashya wasn't up to that. "Never heard of you."

The slight widening of the eyes and the strangled "guh?" were faintly rewarding. She, a sixteen year old girl who'd never been beyond the system, barely even the planet, had just gotten the better of someone who was clearly a veteran of many wars. It was a good day already. "So how d'you know my mother?"

Fett, if that really was his name, narrowed his eyes at her. "What has your mother told you?"

Kashya rolled her eyes skywards, thinking. As her mother had taught her, she kept her thoughts on the man lying in front of her. "She said that she was young when she got pregnant with me… young and stupid. She said that it was a bad idea, but that she doesn't regret it. She said that it was a one night thing, something … that she never saw you again. That she avoided you for the rest of her life… well, used to, I guess. Sometimes it sounded like she hated you. Other times it sounded like she was completely in love with you." 

The shock was rolling off the man in palpable waves with every word she spoke. Kashya wasn't sure whether to be amused by this or just keep a better eye on him. "What do you think?" he rasped.

Kashya shrugged slightly. "I try not to. You weren't really an issue, you were off … wherever… and she didn't speak about you often. I had a family, didn't really need any more."

Thoughts whirled around in Fett's head. Kashya caught some of them, a man's face, identical to the bounty hunter's but different, in some way… softer. Rain, lots of rain. A poignant pain that was gone almost before Kashya had a chance to register it… "What's your name?"

"Kashya."

"Kashya…" His voice rasped after hers. "A good name."

From the sharp feeling of surprise Kashya felt behind her, that wasn't the sort of thing Boba Fett said very often. _You can stop eavesdropping anytime, mother._ _Just making sure you're safe,_ she heard back, and a flash of something… violent. Kashya gasped and grabbed her arm, blinking a second and actually surprised when her hand didn't come away bloody. "You… broke her arm?"

"And more." She got the feeling that he would have shrugged if he could have. 

"Why?"

"She was the merchandise. I was paid to take her to … Palpatine. It was pretty much that simple. Alive, injured or uninjured, it didn't matter."

"And is that what you do?" Kashya heard the notes of anger, irritation creeping into her voice. This man's cold attitude was bothering her, and it was bothering her even more that she had to credit her existence to him. 

"Yes."

"Except her."

"Yes." He frowned. Kashya nearly laughed out loud. He looked, in that moment, exactly like every one of the boys who had tried to get into her pants and failed, and every man who she'd seen try to talk up her mother and fail. The bounty hunter caught a little of her amusement. "What?" 

"You really don't understand her, do you?" 

The bounty hunter looked at her as though she'd finally done something interesting. Kashya resisted a suddenly uncontrollable urge to squirm and bolt. Now she knew at least a little of what her mother had gone through, and it didn't seem so dismissable anymore. "What do you mean?" 

Kashya shrugged. "Mother always said, you use what weapons you have to hand. She also said, a woman's best weapons are her body, mind, and will. People underestimate her, find her soft and attractive, and then she can strike while their guard is down." She looked sideways at Fett. "Is that what she did to you?"

Fett stared at the child as though she'd grown Devaronian's horns. "Maybe," he said shortly. His stare grew distant, and yet became even more intense. Kashya shivered, suddenly understanding why her mother refused to be in the room with the man while he was awake unless it was absolutely necessary. 

"Whatever," she said, and walked out. 

Cassandra was next into the room, as Boba Fett knew she would be. Possibly to deliver the most recent in the series of sucker-punches he'd just received, but she couldn't have any more for him. Not yet, anyway. His mind flickered back to his brief childhood and watched her react to his thoughts. She hadn't gotten any less powerful in the years since he'd last seen her, anyway. She'd probably been gauging his reaction to her… their… daughter's questions.

Their daughter. His daughter. The concept was still alien to him.

"What do you think?" she leaned against the wall in almost the exact same position her daughter had been standing in; at least that much resemblance was clear.

"She's… interesting."

Cassandra smiled slightly. "That she is."

"And you gave her away."

"Of course I did!" she sounded shocked. "I was hardly more than a child myself, I had no business raising a child! Especially with no family, no money, no resources, and being hunted by some of the biggest, baddest tough guys in the galaxy. That's no way for a child to live. And you weren't exactly receptive to the idea of raising a kid, or at least I'd be willing to bet a lot that you wouldn't be…"

Fett watched her, thinking. He thought back to his own childhood, his 'father', and how comparatively happy he had been. It hadn't been a bad life, though probably not what any mother would wish on her child. But would he be willing to … "Maybe not," he mused quietly to himself.

Cassandra looked away. "Anyway, I stayed in contact with the family. After a while… after I set up operations here, I actually got a chance to be with her… more often. More as I should have."

"But you never told her."

"Not really. That kind of sex and violence isn't exactly what you tell an eight-year-old when she asks where daddy is." Cassandra's tone could have rivaled Tatooine for dryness. Fett thought again back to his childhood, but she was right. Although what little education he'd had from his father had involved a great deal of violence it was always business-like, cold and clinical, efficient. What had happened sixteen years ago had been neither clinical nor cold.

"Aren't you afraid of what I'll tell her?"

Cassandra snorted. She still was looking anywhere but at him. "Like hell. You don't know what happened any more than I do."

Fett couldn't really object to that.


	9. Crisis

Author's Note: I'm trying to keep this in character... I think I'm succeeding. I don't know... please read and review, and thank you to all you guys who are enjoying it so far!

  
  
  
"What the hell?" 

Romy dashed into the medical bay at warp speeds, skidding to a stop before she slammed into the thrashing man on the table. Kashya followed in her footsteps, and nearly screamed when she saw what was going on. The bounty hunter was, for all appearances, frothing blood and foam at the mouth, and writhing so hard it almost looked like he was about to snap all his limbs in two. Cassandra was frantically trying to do ten things at once, most of them involving syringes and drugs. She tossed a bundle of flat canvas restraints at Romy. "Get him strapped down better."

"What's going on?" Romy immediately started in on it, but it was hard with the way the bounty hunter was thrashing.

"Secondary infections," Cassandra said grimly. "I thought I was keeping track of them but one got away from me. Hit the nervous system and hit it hard. I'm trying to get it under control, but it's just escalating now." 

Romy glanced at the collection of droids frantically pacing and rolling around in the back of the room. "You need a medical droid."

"Don't remind me." Cassandra winced and leapt back as Fett nearly managed to tear his arm from the restraints, scraping off a good portion of skin and perhaps even a layer of muscle in the process. "Stay still! Bastard…" As if in response to her command, the bounty hunter went limp. Romy and Kashya stared.

"That's a good sign, right?" Kashya asked hesitantly, not entirely sure how concerned she should be over this.

"Not really. It means he's just about exhausted his resources. The body can only go on fighting infection for so long before it just gives up. And he's already been through hell and back. This on top of everything should kill him." Romy and Kashya exchanged glances. Cassandra sounded grimly resigned… but she was working as frantically as she could to bring the bounty hunter back to some semblance of physical stability. At least, that was what it looked like.

"What should we do?" Romy asked quietly.

"In a perfect world, I'd dump him in a bacta tank. As it is, we'll have to make do with…" she tossed some syringes and packaged needles at Romy "Epinephrine, bertyllium, kirescine. Keep his body temperature at normal human levels and make sure he doesn't break anything if he starts thrashing around again." Cassandra pulled up a stool and sat down, placing her hands on either side of the unconscious man's face, fingers slightly spread, palms to his cheeks. "If I don't come out of this… well, hit me with the solution," she jerked her head over to another syringe, set apart from the others, "in about 24 hours."

"That long?"

"If it's not over in 24 hours, we'll both be fine. If it takes that long, something's…" she trailed off as her eyes rolled back up in her head and she slumped forward.

Kashya moved over to stand behind the woman. "What's she … is she doing what I think she's doing?"

Romy stared at her friend for a few long minutes before answering. "I think so."

"But… why? No, never mind," Kashya shook her head. "I think I get it. It's still crazy."

Romy chuckled softly, moving around to take up Cassandra's former station at the medical computers. "Well, she never claimed to be anything but. Sometimes I think it runs in your family," she gave the young girl a pointed look, and the girl stuck her tongue out at her foster mother. "Besides, he's still a person. And as … well, as bitchy as your mother can be, she still cares about people."

"And besides, he is kind of cute." Kashya grinned, and Romy rolled her eyes.

"That's exactly the kind of thinking that got your mother into trouble in the first place, kid." Romy informed the girl. Kashya shrugged.

"Assuming he lives."

The two of them watched the unconscious bounty hunter, the woman slumped nearly across him with her eyes rolled up and her body stiff and unmoving. They watched the vital signs on the monitors flicker, wavering at the point between life and certain death. "Yeah. Assuming he lives."

Kashya tore her gaze away and stared at the floor. She kicked an empty canister across it with a loud rattling sound that made them both jump when it hit the opposite wall. "This sucks."

  
  
  
  
Raindrops splattered their face in a steady, cool pattern. In the back of Cassandra's mind she wondered why rain should be the most soothing image in Boba Fett's thoughts, but she was careful not to let the musings become too clear. The last thing she needed was the bounty hunter wondering why someone else was in his head. She could work with rain.

The infection, whatever it was… probably something perfectly ordinary… had been running rampant through his system probably for a couple of days now. Dumb, dumb, dumb, Cassandra admonished herself. She'd thought the red lines running through his arms had been new growth; they'd been camouflaged amidst the pink of healing skin. But they'd been the lines of blood poisoning, and now it had reached dangerous proportions. If she'd been paying attention, instead of running scared from the deep brown eyes, she'd have noticed that. He could have been gone by now. Then again if she hadn't noticed when she did he'd be dead, and she still wouldn't have had to worry. She wondered, though, if she'd regret.

Machine, she scolded herself. The body is a machine, nothing more. Just one more machine for you to fix. She filtered the contaminants out of the blood, releasing them through the pores of the skin. He'd need to be rehydrated, and she just had to hope that Romy would notice. Antibodies could be manufactured in her own body and transferred to his through openings in the skin; she opened small cuts in her fingertips, on his lips, and transferred the antibodies by stimulating her blood flow just that much. Not very sanitary, but with the power of the Force it was more effective than any tube method. And outside this peculiar microscopic realm Romy was doing her job, too. She could feel the bounty hunter's fever dropping from the dangerous heights it had been climbing to. 

Now, she realized, she would have to be even more careful. Most of the main wounds he had suffered were healed, but his immune system, his whole body was dangerously weak. She had to go through, square centimeter by square centimeter, checking him over and making sure everything was healing properly. She should have done this the first time. It was this sort of check that would take hours, and why she had told Romy to wait as long as she had. She only hoped it didn't take much longer.

  
  
  
  
It was nighttime when he finally woke up. The small glass panel set in the ceiling showed deep blue-black sky and stars, a very clear sky. He'd had the brief impression that it was raining, but he supposed that must have been a dream. Along with the dream of Kamino, now thirty five years behind him. He hadn't had those dreams in a long time. And he felt good, better than he had even since before Jabba's palace. The Jedi girl… woman, she'd grown up in fifteen years… had healed him, although he was still strapped down in the medical bay. Just as well; he had enough to think about without being distracted by aches, pains, or chemical burns.

Kashya. His daughter. His daughter. His and the Jedi girl's he'd been hunting down years ago. The only one who'd managed to escape completely, which was an impressive feat in and of itself. And then she had hidden not only herself but her daughter as well. It would have made him proud, had he still been capable of the feeling. It would have… and it did. Curious. He hadn't thought he had enough emotion left in him to feel proud about anyone. 

Boba Fett thought back to that night he had last seen Cassandra, once again feeling the twinges of admiration and annoyance that she'd managed to escape him and stay escaped. He didn't even know how she'd gotten out of the cell, which was supposed to hold everyone including Jedi. And she wasn't even a Jedi, or hadn't been. Yet somehow she'd gotten the drop on him, surprised him first in the sudden appearance by his bunk and then … 

Gold in the corner of his vision made him spin his head around. It was at that point, too, that he realized the restraints were off. He could move. 

"How do you feel?" she asked softly. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and she was keeping to the shadows. Not that he could blame her, but that alone wouldn't save her.

"Better." He sat up slowly, carefully, making sure everything worked before he tried to move very far. "Thanks to you, I suppose."

"If you think it warrants thanks." Her eyes were glowing uncannily, reflecting gold in the moonlight. He almost expected her to walk forward, but she stayed where she was. Silence fell, lasting several minutes, until it was almost comfortable, even companionable. 

"Am I dreaming?" he asked, suddenly beset with a feeling of unreality.

"I suppose. Or maybe I am," the gold disappeared as she looked around, then reappeared as she looked back at him and the light flashed off her eyes again. "Does it really make a difference either way?" She pushed off of the wall and began to pace the length of the medical bay. Boba Fett watched her, curious to see how she'd changed and for once in a position to see. 

The medical bay was certainly not what he'd expected from her. True, computers and medical equipment abounded, but so did greenery and windows. The entire room was climate controlled and perfectly balanced, but it was also carefully made to be aesthetically pleasing. As though anyone sick enough to visit the medical bay cared what their surroundings were. 

"What happened?"

"You went into extreme shock in addition to suffering secondary infection from your wounds. Advanced secondary infection," she added, highly unnecessarily. He had guessed that already. Which meant that he owed her his life again, making that the second time in an extremely short period. He still didn't know why either, although he was becoming more convinced that she didn't know her own motives. It was almost reassuring, if he was the sort of person to be reassured.

"Interesting."

Cassandra turned, and Fett blinked as he found that she was closer than he had thought she was to him. Close enough for him to feel her breath on the base of his throat, closer than he would ever have liked or permitted under normal circumstances. But then, these were hardly normal circumstances. "So what are you going to do now?" he rasped.

"I don't know." Her voice was soft against his suddenly uncomfortably bare chest. He'd heard of the phenomenon, but he'd never felt so vulnerable without his customary two inches of armor between him and the world. It bothered him that it bothered him.

"You don't know much, do you?" he asked more out of irritation than anything else. The rest of what he had been going to say stopped in his throat as she stared up at him with eyes gone golden again. 

"I know enough." Her tone of voice was dangerous. Almost as dangerous as his. She was an inch away from him now, and suddenly his brain kicked into high gear and he realized just how dangerous she was. She'd fooled him once with that and now… she was doing it again. Soft, warm, and more powerful than he'd ever wanted, anticipated, or dreamed of… What the…

  
  
  
  
Boba Fett's eyes snapped open about the same time as Cassandra screamed in outrage and shock, leaping back and slamming against the wall. Romy and Kashya stared at them both.

"What the hell is going on?" their daughter asked. 


	10. Confrontation

Author's Note: Here it is! The end! Or is it? :) I still haven't decided whether I want to put the next scene as an epilogue or as a vignette. And there's a whole other plotline after this, too, so yes there _will_ be a sequel, if there's a demand. Have it plotted out through the whole Yuzhan Vong series and everything. As always, thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! I'm so glad you all are enjoying this. And now, on to the finish!

  
  
  
"He's out. I don't care what shape he's in, the second he can walk he's out." Cassandra's eyes glowed golden as she slammed her fist into the wall, snapping off the syringe needle she was gripping in her clenched hand. Only when the air started to crackle around her did she struggle for control. 

"Uh-huh." Romy said behind her, not in the least fazed by this display of temper. It wasn't that she'd seen it before, not in Cassandra, so much as she'd finally figured out what was going on. No one else had, except perhaps for Kashya, but then that was the usual way of thing. "Right."

Cassandra turned around and glared at her old friend. "What?"

"Nothing." Romy held up her hands in the universal gesture of don't-shoot-the-messenger. "Absolutely nothing. You're right, as always." Tethys, rolling down the hall, made some decidedly disgusted noises which Romy correctly interpreted as commentary on Cassandra's latest behavior. "I agree completely, Tethys, she's being a damn fool."

"Really?" her voice had gone soft, dangerous. The same tones, in fact, that the bounty hunter had heard a few minutes before. 

"Oh, give it up, Cass. Even Kashya can see how …" Romy paused, choosing her words carefully. "Attracted you are to the man."

"Not that we can blame you…" Kashya put in with what was obviously supposed to be a leer. The expression only looked comical on the fifteen-year-old's face. Fortunate, because it served to defuse some of Cassandra's anger. 

"Kashya, one, he's too old for you, two, he's your father, three, he's your father, four, have I mentioned he's a deadly killer yet? Five, he's too old for you."

"Six, he's your father," Romy added in.

"Seven, you shouldn't even be thinking about that yet, and if I catch you messing around…" Cassandra said in mock-threatening tones.

"She'll turn your father on the unlucky boy," Romy snickered, and then ducked behind a chair as an empty drug canister went flying in her direction. "What? It's true."

"I never, ever want to see that man again," Cassandra said quietly. "I mean it."

"You mean it now. But what happens the next time you get news of where he is, what he's doing? What happens the next time you have nightmares in the middle of the night… yes, I've heard you. I know what you dream most vividly about, and it doesn't take a Jedi to see how attracted you are to him. More than just physically, although I wouldn't call it love, either." Not yet, Romy thought quietly to herself, hoping her friend wouldn't pick up on it.

"You think I don't know that?" Cassandra said, equally quietly. "You think I haven't figured that out? Why do you think I want him gone in the first place? Not because I'm entertaining any delusions about myself. But he's too dangerous… too dangerous for me to be even on the same planet as him. And not for the … well. Not for the same reasons as everyone else. You know what I'm talking about."

Romy nodded slowly. "All right. And then what?"

She shrugged slightly. "I do what I've done for the last decade and a half. This isn't exactly a game I can win. Hell, it isn't a game to begin with. Damned if I do, damned if I don't." She glanced over at Kashya, who was looking like she wanted to be somewhere else. "Where are you going?" 

"Fishing," the girl said, and darted out the door. Cassandra shook her head slowly.

"Fishing."

Romy smiled slightly. "She has her mother's sense of irony, anyway. And can you really blame the kid for not wanting to stick around to see this? I wouldn't if I were here."

"Not really," Cassandra sighed. "All right. Let's do this. Be a love and take him to his ship, would you? I doubt he'll try anything, we're giving him what he wants and sending him on his way. It's not in his best interest to leave a trail of bodies, and he doesn't kill people if there's no profit in it."

"That's so comforting," Romy said sarcastically. Then, more seriously, "Sure. Are you going to be all right?"

"No," Cassandra smiled slightly. "But … we'll see."

  
  
  
  
Helmet, plates, and weaponry hit the floor with a loud clank. A second later, the restraints retracted into the table. "Romy's waiting at the docks to take you to your ship. I retrieved it from Tatooine, it's docked on the main continent." Cassandra's voice was steadier than she'd thought it would be. 

"So what do you want?" Boba Fett sat up slowly, carefully, testing arms and legs to make sure they would move properly and support his weight. He was also, in his own way, testing the environment. The last time he'd been in this situation it had turned out to be something like a dream, or a nightmare. Or a hallucination, for all he knew. He wasn't sure which, and was beginning not to care.

"I want you gone. I want you off this planet and out of my life. Again." Her voice, contrary to the noise she'd been making down the hall that even he could hear, was calm. They might have been talking about the weather.

"You were the one who started this," he reminded her.

"I know. It was a mistake." But a mistake she'd been glad to make, a little voice in the back of her head reminded her. She ignored it. 

"You don't want credits, or a favor later," he half-asked, making sure. He slid down from the table slowly, wincing slightly at the chill of the floor on his bare feet. The armor, he saw, was behind her. Perhaps a deliberate, symbolic gesture on her part, or perhaps just subconscious precautions. 

"I don't want anything from you. I never wanted anything from you, much less…" she trailed off, and they both looked away with nearly identical expressions that neither of them saw. Neither of them was sure, even now, what they thought about what had happened. He stepped towards the armor, and she stepped in front of him. Deliberate, then.

"I thought you wanted me gone," he commented mildly.

"I want you gone, and I want you to stay gone. I don't care how much money you're offered to find me, or Kashya, or anyone on this planet. I don't want you back here, and I don't want you in the system. If I ever see you again, I will kill you."

It was the uncertainty in her voice, the way she said it that was in some ways the same as the way so many others had said it before and not meant it, not knowing if they could take the formidable bounty hunter down. He grabbed her throat in his hand. "What makes you think you can?"

The old Cassandra would have squeaked and tried to pull away. This new Cassandra grabbed his wrist with both hands and swung upwards, a double kick to the solar plexus and jaw that made him wince and drop her. She landed neatly, swinging her leg around and kicking him in the back of the knee. His legs buckled, but he stayed on his feet. "I've learned better," she said shortly.

His fist slammed into her face, just above the bridge of her nose, sending her reeling backwards with lights flashing in front of her eyes. "Not that much better," he commented dryly until the foot launched itself into the small of his back and he did go down this time, onto his knees, pain shooting up through his spine. 

"You'd be surprised," she said, finally sounding angry. He tried to spin around but her fist caught him exactly where he'd hit her, and now he saw stars. The second punch landed in his ribs, and the third he managed to evade, grabbing her arm and swinging around even as he got to his feet. As he twisted her arm up behind her back he remembered what had happened on the ship. Despite the cool of the room he suddenly felt warm, very warm. Odd.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice more hoarse and rasping than it had been yet. Nothing to do with the Sarlacc. He didn't even know what he was asking. It was starting to annoy him.

"Why are you?" she asked, and this time she didn't try to move. Not away from him, at any rate, although…

"You first," he growled.

"Go to hell," she said. She could feel his breath on her cheek, hot and fast, and it made her body go hot and cold all over. The situation was far too familiar for her comfort, exactly what she'd wanted to prevent. Great going, she told herself. Really great. 

"Already been there…" he said softly, almost more to himself than to her. But he didn't move, either, and she wondered just what was going through his mind, even as the same thoughts flickered through his. Their bodies were touching at too many points, distractions they didn't need. 

He turned her loose so abruptly that she staggered forward, moving towards his armor. Cassandra took several deep breaths, then moved quickly to the other side of the table, watching as the bounty hunter put on his armor and identity. Which was really what it looked like, as though he was an actor taking on an old, familiar role. When the helmet went back over his head it seemed to break the spell, and she found she could breathe again.

"Get gone," she said softly. He stared at her for a few minutes, then turned and left without a further word. She waited until she could no longer hear his booted footsteps echoing in the halls of her home, and then she collapsed to the floor, shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

The bounty hunter walked out to the boat, thinking of the smile of a child.


End file.
